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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26369347">Voices In My Head</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetruchioandtheRose/pseuds/PetruchioandtheRose'>PetruchioandtheRose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Cutting, Depression, Ray-centric, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Seriously. Read the tags, Suicide Attempt, Trigger Warnings, mental health, tw</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:08:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,128</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26369347</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetruchioandtheRose/pseuds/PetruchioandtheRose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray Palmer.</p><p>A man built like a superhero with a heart of kindness and purity like no other.</p><p>What a shame it was that the purity had to be tainted by his own mind.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Voices In My Head</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS! </p><p>There is self-harm in this fic. Please be careful. </p><p>If you are looking for a reason not to kill yourself, here it is.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A man built like a superhero with a heart of kindness and purity like no other.</p><p> </p><p>What a shame it was that the purity had to be tainted by his own mind.</p><p> </p><p>Ray Palmer was squeezed in the sliver of a space between his bed and the wall. He wasn’t sure if he could fit, but desperation could make you do incredible things. </p><p> </p><p>He stroked the ridges on the wall, hard enough to leave indentations on his skin, hard enough to hurt. But the back and forth was calming. Grounding. </p><p> </p><p>While his hands were busy with the wall, he stared intensely at the ceiling, the popcorned plaster dizzying and disorienting. He tried to count each bump to distract himself, but how could he distract himself from his own mind?</p><p> </p><p>He hated the voice, whom he decided to call Hallie because when he tried to tell people about it, they told him that he was hallucinating. </p><p> </p><p>He hated the voice because it told him to hurt himself. To make himself feel the pain he knew he deserved.</p><p> </p><p>He hated the voice because it shouted at him. It shouted and shouted because it wasn’t being acknowledged. </p><p> </p><p>He hated the voice, but he loved it because he knew that Hallie wasn’t trying to hurt him, but protect him. </p><p> </p><p>Hallie was trying to protect him. He swore it. </p><p> </p><p>When the walls in his mind broke down, it was either drown in the pure hatred that he felt about himself or let some of it out with physical pain.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps it was healthier to let it out by talking to someone. Good Ray Palmer would agree. </p><p> </p><p>But he wasn’t Good right now. He was Broken Ray Palmer. Damaged Ray Palmer. </p><p> </p><p>Logic doesn’t apply to Broken Ray Palmer. Reality doesn’t make sense to Damaged Ray Palmer.</p><p> </p><p>Because when he was Broken Ray Palmer and Damaged Ray Palmer, he can’t think. He hates not being to think.</p><p> </p><p>That’s why Hallie thinks for him. And Hallie tells him to reach for his shaving razor. </p><p> </p><p>He rubs the wall faster. His finger really hurts. His vision is too blurry to see properly. </p><p> </p><p>He was clean, goddammit. Honestly, it was because he had been much too busy with missions and such, but being clean was being clean. He loved looking in the mirror and feeling proud that he hadn’t cut in months.</p><p> </p><p>Time is relative here, Hallie whispered. You haven’t been clean for that long because time doesn’t exist, idiot. </p><p> </p><p>Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.</p><p> </p><p>No matter how many degrees he earned, he was an idiot. </p><p> </p><p>No matter how hard he tries not to be, he was an idiot.</p><p> </p><p>Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.</p><p> </p><p>Then, with a startling pop in his vision, he knew what to do. He stopped rubbing the wall, marveling at the groove that was left behind.</p><p> </p><p>Almost as if he was possessed, he reached for the razor oh so conveniently under the bed beside him.</p><p> </p><p>He gently ran an index finger down the old cuts, that may or may not be old cuts because time has lost all meaning in his life.</p><p> </p><p>Ray Palmer dragged the blade across, watching with fascination at the blood that bubbled up. </p><p> </p><p>Not too many lines, he told himself, or Hallie told him, he didn’t know anymore. Enough to make you feel the pain you deserve, but not enough to kill you. You can’t feel the pain if you’re dead, can you? </p><p> </p><p>Blood was therapeutic for him. Until it wasn’t.  </p><p> </p><p>As he desperately tried to wipe the blood off of his arms, he felt an overwhelming sense of disgust. He was disgusting. </p><p> </p><p>Not strong enough to save Anna. Not strong enough to be a good teammate. Not strong enough to be a good friend. Not strong enough to fight against the stupid voice in his head. </p><p> </p><p>Not strong enough to stay clean.</p><p> </p><p>Anna was the only one that knew about the cutting. She celebrated with him when he threw away the last razor. She was the one that bandaged his cuts and held him and told him that she wasn’t mad at him, just mad at the forces that made Ray feel this way. </p><p> </p><p>She made him feel like he could live another day.</p><p> </p><p>Ray played with the razor, turning it in his hands and watching the light reflect off of it. He wasn’t a religious person. But if there was an afterlife, and if there was a chance that he would be let in, would he be with Anna again?</p><p> </p><p>He was required to take an anatomy class back in college, and while he had forgotten much of the information taught, there was a piece of information that never left him.</p><p> </p><p>Where to cut to hit an artery. </p><p> </p><p>He closed his eyes and thought of Anna. Smiling. Laughing. Her embraces and her kisses. He smiled and pressed down.</p><p> </p><p>It was calm for a while. More blood then he imagined dripped out of the slashed lines that he made. Disgust washed by content and fascination. That blood and this blood was different. That blood made him sick. This blood made him free.</p><p> </p><p>Then the panic struck.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, God. </p><p> </p><p>He was going to die.</p><p> </p><p>The peace that he had with death disintegrated into pain and confusion. </p><p> </p><p>He tried to lift himself up but his size and the panic coursing through him made him fall back with a thump. </p><p> </p><p>The blood was coming too fast. Too fast. Much too fast. He wasn’t sure if it was fast enough to kill him, but then again, what did he know? </p><p> </p><p>“Gideon? Can you-- Can you get someone?”</p><p><br/><br/>Ray was met with silence, then cursed himself when he remembered that he had reprogramed Gideon away from his room. </p><p> </p><p>He tried to lift himself up again but his legs refused to work and his arms were too weak and bloody and cut up and disgusting and dirty and stupid.</p><p> </p><p>While he struggled, he was met with a sudden wave of lethargy. He stopped, falling back once again, feeling bad for whoever was below him, if anyone. He slowly dragged his finger through the pool of blood he was leaving behind, a slow smile appearing on his face in a picture of a manic obsession. His eyes started to close when he was startled back to reality with a loud bang. </p><p> </p><p>Ray lazily turned his head to the source of the noise to see Mick, who was feigning a look of disinterest that quickly faded away when he saw the state that Ray was in. </p><p> </p><p>Mick quickly lifted Ray from the tight space he was in, setting him down on the bed. He grabbed rags from the nightstand and held it against Ray’s bleeding forearms. </p><p> </p><p>“We have to get you to the medbay. You lost way too much blood,” Mick grunted in an attempt to hide his fear and worry. However, Ray interpreted it as anger and inched away from Mick.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine. I’ll be fine. You can go now,” Ray stuttered quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re joking, aren’t you, Haircut? I’m taking you to the medbay.” Mick took Ray by the shoulders and lifted him up, allowing Ray’s feet to stand but bearing much of Ray’s weight on himself. He ignored Ray’s protests as he practically dragged him to the ship’s medical room. </p><p> </p><p>He unceremoniously dropped Ray down onto a chair and shouted, “Gideon?”</p><p> </p><p>“Dr. Palmer has lost a worrisome amount of blood. While it doesn’t warrant a transfusion, the wounds need stitching that I cannot provide.”</p><p><br/><br/>“Can you give me the materials then?” </p><p> </p><p>“They are on the shelf beside you, Mr. Rory.”</p><p> </p><p>Mick grasped at the thread and needle. “It’s fancier than what I had with Snart, but I guess that’s better,” he said.</p><p> </p><p>Mick reached into his shirt pocket and came back with a pair of glasses, slipping it onto his nose as he began the process. </p><p> </p><p>“How did you know?” Ray mumbled, eyes looking straight ahead.</p><p> </p><p>“The gym’s right below your room. You were being really loud,” Mick replied.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>Mick finished up the stitches on Ray’s right arm and glanced up at Ray, who still refused to make eye contact, staring ahead, mouth moving as if he wanted to speak but was being denied the privilege. </p><p> </p><p>Mick moved to Ray’s left side and started the process over again. It was clear that Ray wanted to say something, but Mick didn’t want to push it, partially to give Ray an opportunity to think but also for him to take in what he had seen. It was already a lot to know about the demons in a friend, but the image of Ray gazing at him with broken eyes filled with tears, arms ripped open, blood steadily dripping, a bloody razor dropped to the side. He was no stranger to darkness, but darkness was an unexpected visitor all the same. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you angry?” Ray asked, almost childishly. Ray swallowed as he seemed to brace for the answer that was to him an obvious yes. Of course Mick was angry. He seemed angry when he found him, he wasn’t speaking, he wasn’t smiling, well Mick doesn’t really smile at all but in this instance, it had to be because he was angry, and--</p><p> </p><p>“No.” </p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Mick stopped halfway through the left arm to look up at Ray and felt incredible sadness. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m not mad at you, Haircut. I’m upset, but only because you felt so alone that you felt you had to do this. I’m upset that you felt like you couldn’t talk to anyone, me, Nate, Sara, or someone else. I’m upset that this happened, but I’m not mad at you.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s like what Anna used to say to me. Not exactly of course. I mean, of course, she didn’t. But it was similar enough.”</p><p> </p><p>“So Anna knew?”<br/><br/></p><p>“She’s the only one who did. I guess Gideon knew as well because she knows everything about everyone on the ship, but among the living, only Anna. Well, I guess not among the living because she’s dead.” Ray chuckled grimly, maintaining the cold eye contact with the air around him. </p><p> </p><p>“You know, I was clean for a while. Ever since we came on the Waverider. It was because we were so busy with missions and stuff, but that counts, right?” Ray chanced a glance at Mick, who nodded softly.</p><p> </p><p>“But in a way, I wasn’t clean, because we’re in the time stream and technically there’s no time here.” </p><p> </p><p>“Haircut, do you believe you were clean for the months we were here?” </p><p> </p><p>“Ye-Yeah, I guess so.”<br/><br/></p><p>“Then you were clean. Forget about the stupid time construct that we have. If you were clean, then goddammit you were clean. Celebrate what you have, Haircut.”</p><p> </p><p>Ray blinked back tears and smiled slightly. They sat in silence as Mick finished up the stitching. </p><p> </p><p>“This good, Gideon?”</p><p><br/><br/>“Couldn’t have been done better, Mr. Rory.”</p><p> </p><p>Mick smirked to himself and got up, stretching as he moved to put away the instruments. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Mick?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, Haircut?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry.” Mick sighed and took his seat once again. </p><p> </p><p>“Look at me, Haircut.” He met eyes with the resident nerd and smiled sadly. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be sorry. I just want you to remember that you aren’t alone. The Legends? We are all idiots but we are all a family of idiots. No one is going to judge you. Everyone here wants the best for you. And if you don’t want to talk to them, talk to me. I know what it’s like. You can cry and slobber all over me and I swear I won’t tell anyone. You won’t even have to pay me this time.” </p><p> </p><p>Ray began to sob, stroking the stitched up cuts perhaps unconsciously. Mick gently led his arms away and pulled Ray in for a hug. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you going to tell the others about this?” Ray sniffled into Mick’s neck.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you want?”</p><p><br/><br/>“I think I want them to know but not to baby me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. I get it. Don’t worry about it. Get some rest. And reprogram Gideon into your room dammit.”</p><p> </p><p>True to his wish, the other Legends didn’t fawn over him or treat him like glass. Instead, they treated him as normal, albeit with caution and concern. But that was just the love that they had for him. </p><p> </p><p>And no matter what, under any circumstances, was Ray supposed to know that Mick had woken the team up in the middle of the night to both tell them about the events of the night but also to warn them to not change for Ray. To which they responded that they understood, they cared, could they go to sleep now. </p><p> </p><p>After all, the wave of love from the family called the Legends is somehow enough to rid the pesky little voice in your head. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here is a list of suicide hotlines if you need help: https://www.suicidestop.com/call_a_hotline.html</p><p>I ran into a major bump with my other fics.</p><p>The story's pacing was a lot faster than I anticipated, and I think I wrote Mick's dialogue much too eloquent, but when you're writing from the heart, all seems to slip away.</p><p>If you are looking for a reason not to kill yourself, this is it. </p><p>I love you so much.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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